


Shrekles

by The_Shrekelles



Category: David Bowie (Musician), Elton John (Musician), Led Zeppelin, Queen (Band), Shrek (Movies), Shrek The Musical - Tesori/Lindsay-Abaire, The Who (Band)
Genre: Crack, Hogwarts, I regret everything, Jimmy Page is a snake, Like you don’t understand how much goodwill it took, M/M, This is a testament to my dedication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shrekelles/pseuds/The_Shrekelles
Summary: If you hate yourself as much as I do, this is for you. And for those unfortunates for whom this was made,,,,,, you got what you came for.
Relationships: David Bowie/Shrek, Elton John/David Bowie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Shrekles

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shrek/David Bowie - Hogwarts au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154046) by [aliens_exist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliens_exist/pseuds/aliens_exist). 



I am typoing yi typing i am, typing i am typing i nfhjsedhfgsdhgjkdfngkedngkjdng-bri  
Shrekles  
A parody  
By the minds of Bri, Maggie M., & B. Harold May.

David Bowie was sad, because Mr. Shrek had been fired for seducing his student. What David didn’t know was that his liaison had been reported by Elton John, David’s closest friend, who was jealous of Shrek. He wanted to be David’s lover, and he didn’t see why Bowie chose that oafish pickle dilf. Well, if he was being entirely honest, he did kind of get it. He was a red-blooded young man, after all; you’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to detect the many layers of sex appeal radiating off of the disgraced onionology teacher.   
At any rate, Elton had brought photographic evidence of the affair to headmaster Margaret Thatcher, who’d immediately fired Mr. Shrek with a considerably huge severance, in exchange for keeping the tryst quiet. After that thing with that kid and the car, another sexual scandal was the last thing the school needed.  
Elton felt somewhat guilty, sitting on David’s bed with him, consoling him against a problem that he himself was the cause of. But when Bowie leaned on his shoulder, he felt cautiously hopeful that something may be developing, something that could never happen with Mr. Shrek in the mix.   
David leaned even further into his friend, clutching at his glimmering shirt. The tears were beginning to slow, which Elton supposed was good. And then that beautiful androgynous face, with that spellbinding heterochromia* and the highest cheekbones Elton had ever laid eyes on gazed up at him, and spoke.   
“You know what I miss most about Mr. Shrek?” David asked in between sniffles.  
“His ogre cock?” Elton asked, trying to be a good friend and lighten the mood. David’s face took on a look of shock,  
“Dude, yeah, how did you know?” David was genuinely in awe, so Elton decided not to tell him it was a joke.  
“Well, I don’t think there was a single other object you talked about as much as that dumb bastard’s thick swamp cock.” David nodded.   
“Yeah, I could really do with some ogre cock right now.” David straightened his back, taking full advantage of his two inches of height difference. “Couldn’t you, Elton?” Elton wanted to answer in the affirmative; he hadn’t gotten laid in a while. The last time was a few months ago, the end of the third term. He’d been in serious danger of failing transfiguration, and John Reid (the TA) had given him a few extra credit opportunities.   
“Well, David, um, now that you- uh now that you mention it, I really could do with some- well, maybe not ogre cock specifically, but, uh, you know,” he let his sentence trail off towards the end, trusting that they’d been friends long enough for David to be able to read him. The latter young man looked around, seeing that no one else was near. This was probably because they were skipping class, for the third time in as many days. Only now was it beginning to occur to Elton why it was he’d needed to sleep with the TA to pass potions with a D+**. Or was that transfiguration? Why the hell was John Reid TA’ing for so many classes? What was the deal with that? David broke his train of thought, which was lucky for John Reid but unlucky for the general health of the male student body.  
“You know,” David’s hand crept up Elton’s thigh, “no one’s around, and we are already on a bed.” Elton just nodded, and then they banged.  
Fun fact: english cucumbers are much tastier and healthier than american cucumbers. They don’t have any wax on them, so they don’t need to be peeled. And while their water content is high, especially compared to other kinds of fruit, they have much more flavor. Another fun fact is that english caves are very different to American caves. English caves are deeper, and narrower, and the mountains on either side of the cave entrances tend to be much larger, and softer.   
On a completely unrelated note, several minutes later Elton and David found themselves lying on the bed. David lit a cigarette, to signal that their transaction was complete, and Elton checked his chunky bedazzled watch. Fuck, it was almost release time.   
“David, we’ve got to get the place cleaned up.”   
“Do we?”  
“Yeah, the bedding is messy, you tore my fucking expensive new shirt, we’ve got to get some concealer on your neck, I think you ripped the mattress-  
“We ripped the mattress-”  
“A mattress has been ripped, and that bedpost is covered in sweat-”  
“No one’s going to notice, Elton.”   
“That’s what you said about the last affair you had, how did that end?” He regretted the words as soon as they exited his mouth, but he’d said them regardless. ‘Man,’ he thought, ‘I really need to work on my impulse control.’ David looked a little upset, but seemed to have gotten over it fairly quickly. He rolled his eyes, & ultimately helped Elton clean their dorm space, however uncooperatively. And just in the nick of time, because as soon as the mattress had been flipped, Jimmy Page sauntered in. You didn’t want Jimmy Page knowing your secrets, because that meant Robert Plant would find out, which meant that it would soon be common knowledge among the student body. Luckily, Jimmy didn’t seem to notice what had just occurred. He just looked at both of them, and asked if they’d heard the news about Roger. This turned into a confusing half-argument about which Roger, Jimmy having forgotten the lad’s surname. 

All was well in Hogwarts, but that couldn’t be said of the Shrekalicious Swamp to the west of the school, where a menacing figure loomed over a letter he’d received from Margaret Thatcher. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, Shrek couldn’t help but shrekle to himself. Even the great and powerful Thatcher couldn’t resist his onionific allure. He hadn’t been foolish enough to request his old job back, or try to contact David again, oh no, he’d only wanted one thing. His large chartreuse heart had blazed with yearning for it since that fateful day when Thatcher had looked him in the eye and yelled at him about decency and responsibility, another lecture that went in one tubeish ear and out the other, yet differentiated itself by ending with the phrase, “you’re fired!” Shrek Daniel Shrek had sought- and now received- the name of his enemy, of whatever skeevy little perv had recorded and reported him and his beloved David. And now he had it. As he read, he grumbled it aloud in a Scottish accent so sensually abrasive that even John Reid would be jealous (and he was, that being the primary reason that Onionology was one of the very few classes that he didn’t inexplicably TA for). Shrek felt his mind boil and he knew that there would be blood, as he roared out the name of his opponent:  
“ELTON HERCULES JOHN!!”

“Wait, Jimmy, are you serious?!” He nodded, putting one pale hand over his heart to pantomime his sincerity.   
Everyone was sitting at the breakfast table, save one Roger Taylor. It was understandable; no one wanted to be swarmed by a horde of their peers, all asking if they were actually a secret drag queen. Elton found it amusing to mentally catalogue which students were upset that Rog was doing drag just to sneak into the girls’ dorms, which ones already knew, and which ones were outraged that he allegedly hadn’t bothered to come up with a better name than Rogerina.   
David snapped his fingers right next to Elton’s ear, eliciting a flinch. “Do you absolutely have to do that?”   
“Yes, this is important,” David replied in a hushed tone, glancing about the crowded dining hall, “and we have to be cautious.”   
“Dear, no one’s going to notice. They’re all preoccupied with Rogerinagate.”  
“Actually it’s Lizgate.” Freddie Mercury interjected. “I mean, it’s all a lie, one hundred percent. Obviously. Rog would never. He only shaves his legs because he’s on the swim team.”  
“Wait, he shaves his legs?” Paul McCartney asked from across the table, and suddenly no one was paying attention to David and Elton’s conversation any longer.   
“What was it that was so important, David?”   
“I heard you were hanging out with Bernie Taupin.”  
“Yeah?” Elton was unconcerned.   
“Isn’t he,” David paused & tried to find a delicate way to word it, “you know,”  
“I actually don’t. You’ve got to remember, my retention skills are fuckin’ weak. Elton isn’t even my real name, I forgot what I was called the week before school started, and my mum wouldn’t tell me, so I made some bullshit up.”  
“Fine, I’ll tell you. He’s getting an A in potions.” Elton had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, so he did so with a series of confused faces.   
“No one aces potions, Elton. Professor Donkey loves failing seniors-”  
“Aren’t we supposed to call them seventh years?”  
“Sure, dear. The point is, you have to be crazy smart and willing to sleep with that Reid kid to get even a B- in that class, and Bernie Taupin is neither intellectual nor queer. Something dubious is afoot.”  
“Oh, come on. You’ve been listening to Jonesy too much.” For students who were interested in more vague, niche, and/or mundane drama than Plant or Page had to offer, John Paul Jones was a valuable resource. “Bernie’s just a good listener, is all. You know that class is just lectures.”  
“I don’t know, Elton, something about that whole affair rubs me the wrong way.” Elton pantomimed his condolences,   
“Oh no, someone rubbed David the wrong way. Say, I think I might know someone who can rub you the right way.” And then they coincidentally both had to go back to their dormitories for twenty minutes. 

It’s hard to travel incognito as an ogre. Shrek not only had to conceal his outlandish hue, remarkable bulk, and unique voice, he also wore a whole bottle of cologne every day just to mask his trademark stench. But it was worth it. Shrek couldn’t wait to see the look on that little mudgrub’s face when he challenged him to a duel. This was, of course, the only way for Shrek to regain his honor. Legally speaking, once your sex tape/nudes have been shown to Margaret Thatcher, the only way to become a respectable member of society once more is to duel against whomever showed said images to Our Lady of Perpetual Privitization. Curiously, you needn’t win, but Shrek was determined to come out victorious. This was in equal parts because he foolishly believed that senseless violent revenge against this poor teenager would rid him of his unmitigated wrathful bloodlust, and because he wanted to prove himself to David. While strong and passionate in the moment, Bowie’s affection could be somewhat fickle. If his feeling waned in the slightest, he could very easily abandon the entire thing, move on to someone new. Shrek suspected that David found a new senpai while he had been deposed, and just the thought of it was enough to make Shrek see red.   
But it was all worth it when he got to Hogwarts. Mr. Shrek knew that school like the back of his hefty, verdant hand. He knew how to get to almost every room in the castle unseen and undisturbed, where all of the various elicit activities took place, and how to get ahold of anything you wanted. He could be a squatter in that castle for the rest of his life before anyone would notice. Shrek relied on his oldest and truest friend, Professor Donkey, to smuggle him onto campus within a gargantuan wax figurine of Jake Sully, the beloved protagonist of the 2009 smash-hit Avatar, directed by James Cameron. It was well known that Jake was a sacred icon, and to use his image in vain was to piss on the face of god themself, so any Avatar merch imported into the school wasn’t subject to inspection of any kind. However, Professor Donkey had met god for coffee a few decades prior, and had obtained permission to sully Sully, if it was for a good cause^.   
Once on campus, Mr. Shrek located a specific carving in the wall of an abandoned corner of the school, a caricatured depiction of the school’s first headmaster having intimate relations with a horse. He stroked the line of mortar directly below the headmaster’s bulging eyes and gently whispered in a rough imitation of a Portuguese accent, “Disney’s Lady & the Tramp was an inside job.” A trapdoor appeared, granting Shrek access to the convoluted Labyrinth of secret passageways that ran throughout Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. ‘Bingo,’ Shrek thought, still in a Portuguese accent, but making its way back to Scottish. 

The next time David and Elton met was in the counselor's office. They had seen a fight, and their witness testimony was given the utmost importance, as they were the only observers who had no personal stake in the situation. Actually, David did have a slight bias, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. It was actually really awkward, David and Elton leaned against one another on the ill-maintained bench, alone in the room but for a quiet receptionist and the emotional British noises coming from the other room, as they could hear Mick Jagger, Pete Townshend, Ronnie Wood, Keith Richards, Roger Daltrey, and a few counselors all yelling at one another. Making out more than a couple of words at a time was a fool’s errand, so David didn’t even bother.  
He turned to look down at his friend-no-boyfriend-no-lover-no-fuckbuddy-no-senpai-no-Elton, and tried to come up with something to say. The atmosphere of the room, even if he ignored the cacophony next door, was stifling, downright oppressive even, and it had a way of killing any mood within a few minutes. Bowie wasn’t even sure that he wanted to try for a conversation, he had just realized that they’d been sitting there in silence for ten minutes. He’d found silence with Elton to be entirely comfortable; there was no obligation to be talking, it was just a natural occurrence.   
Elton was called in first; David had nothing to do but look at the rather amusing graffiti Keith Moon had left there the previous day. Evidently they’d not yet had time to try and remove it. He tried to concentrate on his story. David was all in favor of telling the truth, but the truth was a bit nuanced morally, and he really wanted to get across what a fucking dick Mick Jagger was. It wasn’t his fault, the dude was a massive prick, and he deserved whatever was coming to him.  
Once it was David’s turn to testify, the office aid functioning as a receptionist told Elton that he could leave. Elton tried to stay behind and wait for David, but from what he overheard he would be in there for a while. Elton strongly disliked that room, and decided to just catch up with David later. As he wandered through the stone halls of the school, Elton could tell that something was amiss. He found himself unsure of his whereabouts, or at least even less sure than he usually was, which was scary, because his navigational skills were about as acute as his retention skills, which we’ve established are fuckin’ weak. The only landmark he could detect was some 13th century graffiti proclaiming that some ancient teacher sucketh dick or whatever. Elton didn’t care enough to read it.   
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Elton was especially attuned to the hairs on the back of his neck, as that was the thickest patch on his head. He spun around, which was a great athletic feat in the shoes he was wearing, and his heart stopped. Standing in front of him was the one thing he prayed he’d never see again, the one sight that turned his blood to ice and his heart to stone.   
I was debating putting some stupid bait and switch where it’s just Nick Mason or something, but I’m as eager as you are for this to end. It was Shrek! He stood there, having come seemingly out of nowhere. “P-Professor? Aren’t you fired?”  
“Shut up.” Shrek was in no mood for witty banter, and he spoke with that terrifyingly calm, controlled anger possessed only by stone cold killers and Brian May. However, what Shrek didn’t know was that Elton was literally, medically incapable of shutting up for very long***, so he immediately spoke.  
“What do you want, you-” In his panic, words failed him, and as he struggled to come up with a proper insult for his former professor, the aforementioned ogre made his intentions clear by withdrawing a worn leather glove from out of nowhere (magic). The contact was audible as the glove made contact with the young man’s face. Shrek assumed that Elton would know what that meant, and simply said, “Tomorrow, midnight, behind the clock tower. Be there.” As he tried to covertly exit, Elton protested.   
“Tomorrow morning at midnight, as in tonight? Or tomorrow night at midnight, as in-“  
“Tonight!”  
“Ah, sorry mate, tonight’s no good, I have a test tomorrow I’ve got to cram for.” As if Shrek needed any help hating Elton! He was an ogre first but a teacher second, and the idea that this boy had put off all his studying until the night before made his eyes twitch with uncontrollable wrath.   
“Tomorrow night, midnight.”  
“I have a thing.”  
“A thing that’ll go until midnight?”  
“If I’m lucky.” He did that grotesque thing with his eyebrows. Shrek was close to strangling him.  
“Fine. Saturday?” Elton paused, considering.   
“Yeah, Saturday Night’s Alright.” Shrek seemed pleased, and he awkwardly shooed Elton away, so he wouldn’t see the hidden passage & Shrek could retain his mystique. It took that ignorant slut a full ten minutes to figure out where he needed to go, so the emotional impact of the whole confrontation was somewhat undercut.   
Elton was in serious trouble. He’d never been in a fight. As he paced up and down the halls, he tried to figure out who he knew that could teach him how to fight. He’d done a group project with Roger Daltrey once, and John Reid seemed to like him. Roger won more than John, but John was more likely to actually help him. What to do? 

It was turning out to be an above average day for John Reid. He’d found money on the floor, none of his teachers had anything for him to do or grade, and now Elton John wanted to talk to him. That kid had been flirting with him for years, and by now his ineptitude had become endearing. Luckily he was a remarkably bad student so the initial seduction, once John set his mind on it, had been easy. But now he wasn’t totally sure where they were as, like, a couple or whatever? Then he had to go and fuck David Bowie, and everything went to shit. But, he was coming to talk to him. He wouldn’t do that if he thought they were just fucking. Right?  
“John, dear, love, would you help me with something?” Oh no, was this about his goddamned charms grade? John cut him off,  
“Look, I’ll get it up to a B+, don’t worry about it.”  
“What? Oh, no this isn’t about grades.”   
“Oh?” His voice sounded more hopeful than he really wanted it to, but trying to go back on that now would be futile.   
“Yeah, I kind of got challenged to a duel? I have no idea what to do, and you’re the only person I know who fights, and I was wondering,” he did that thing he did where he trailed off in the middle of the sentence as if John knew what he was going to say. He usually did, but it was obnoxious nonetheless.   
“Who the fuck challenged you to a duel?”  
“Unimportant.”  
“If he’s shorter than you I can’t be of any help.”  
“He’s much taller.” That was good, John had never even met someone shorter to him, let alone fought them. He sighed. The things I do for (((((((love?))))))). Instead of unpacking whatever the fuck that was, he taught that poor boy how to fight as best he could. By the end of the day the agreed on strategy was to aim for the eyes and hope for the best. To his credit, John had never exercised such patience in his life, but Elton was rather hopeless. 

He left feeling disheartened; he hadn’t thought it would be that hard to win a fight. And John was definitely going easy on him. But he had nowhere else to go. Elton tried to remember what he usually did in times of hardship. The solutions he came up with were uninspiring, to say the least. When his grades were bad? He seduced the TA. When his mum stopped sending him spending money? He just pretended to be wealthy, and everyone just kind of accepted it. Honestly his public image was a complex and delicate web of lies; even he was surprised that it had yet to come crashing down around him. When Jimmy Page caught wind of the Renate incident? Ok, he was kind of proud of this one. He’d managed to get out of Jonesy that Jimmy and Robert were fighting, and from there had gotten Robert telling everyone that Jimmy was a sexual deviant with a violent streak and a passion for the darkest arts.   
But Shrek wasn’t someone Elton had any social capital on, nor was he going to gain any. No one yet knew why he’d been fired, but Shrek wasn’t likely to care if they did. Headmaster Thatcher was, but Shrek had seldom shown her any respect even when she controlled his paycheck. He couldn’t bluff his way through it, this was an actual tangible fight he had agreed to. Somebody was going to get hurt, and Elton was increasingly certain that that would be him. And there’s no way he could solve this with sex- wait, was there? No. No absolutely not. Never. Maybe if I start to lose- no. He couldn’t do that to David. Besides, if David was Shrek’s type, he was unlikely to be interested in Elton. But that depended on why he was into David. If it was the androgynous alien look, Elton was fucked. But if it was simply the power imbalance, Elton was- well, also fucked.   
And then there was the problem of whether and what to tell David. If he knew Shrek was back, Elton wasn’t sure what how he would react. On the one hand, they were totally and truly in love, obviously. This morning David had stolen a spoonful of yogurt from him, they were meant to be. Practically married, really. But, by the same token, he had been pretty infatuated with the ogre, and devastated when he was fired. If given the choice between the two of them . . .  
I just won’t let it get to that point, he thought. I’ll defeat Shrek before he even finds out that he’s here. 

That is not what ended up happening. Once David had gotten out of the counselors, he trounced back to whatever house’s dorms he was in^^, only to find Jimmy Page receiving a backrub from Bernie Taupin of all people. “Oh, hello David.”  
“Hi Jimmy.” he muttered back. David didn’t like Jimmy either. He wasn’t as much of a dick as Mick Jagger, but he was pretty damn close. Besides, he was into, like, dark magic or some shit. And BDSM. And some other stuff, too, David was sure of it. That kid’s fucking face was suspicious. And he was so goddamn smug. Like when he. . . again, the proof was in his stupid little inbred face. He didn’t really want to talk to him, so he tried to just slink up the stairs to the dorms. With any luck Elton would be there, and he had just reached that level of malcontent that warranted hornyness.   
“David,” Jimmy said, this time a bit more forcefully. David ground his teeth in order to try and communicate to Jimmy, on a nonverbal and spiritual level, how deeply and existentially uninterested he was in whatever he had to say. Jimmy ignored him, and wouldn’t break eye contact. David was in a bind. If he ignored Jimmy, he’d share his secrets, or make some up. But talking to Jimmy meant listening to his gross voice and looking at his hideous face and inhaling his gourmet scent and absorbing his disgusting vibes, and frankly he wanted no part in it.   
“What is it Jimmy?”  
“Have you heard about Shrek?” This caught David off guard. It’s possible that there was a new development, or. Or, it was possible that he’d done something to upset Jimmy, or one of his weird little groupies. It was possible that he had heard something about David and that hulk-lookin’-ass-mother-fucker, and he was trying to determine how true it was. It was plausible that he was deciding what to say, as Jimmy had once told him that the best lies have a grain of truth in them. It was also possible that Jimmy had already told people, or sent that fucking loudmouth Robert to go spread the word, and was just playing with him like a sadistic cat plays with a parapaligic gerbil. Thus, David was very guarded in his answer.  
“He got fired? Yeah, that happened like two weeks ago Jimmy, I thought we had moved on,” David made sure to glare at John Paul Jones as he spoke, targeting the cohort who wasn’t likely to defend himself, but was close enough to Jimmy that his hostility would hopefully become clear.   
“That’s old news David. I mean that John Entwistle swears up and down that he saw him in that creepy abandoned hall.”  
“Why would John Entwistle be hanging out in a creepy abandoned hall?”  
“Have you met him?” John Bonham challenged.   
“You make a fair point-”  
“I know I do David. I always do. And do you seriously think John Entwistle would lie about something for attention? He’d blow his brains out if anyone made eye contact for more than a few seconds.” David wanted to argue, but somewhere deep in his heart of hearts, he couldn’t help but think that this was true. Jimmy may be a duplicitous wretched treacherous vile scheming no-good malicious pompous overemotional slutty cowardly machiavellian snake, but he wouldn’t lie about John Entwistle. No one had ever seen him fight, but everything about his body and general disposition was unbearably intimidating. And even if you weren’t scared of him, his best friends were a pyromaniac and two idiots with anger issues.   
“Jimmy, are you certain it was him though? How good a look did John get?”  
“Christ David, I don’t know. I’m not that interested in Shrek.” That conceited bastard! This was a setup, elaborately engineered to make it seem like David was obsessed with Shrek, which he totally wasn’t, so he could go telling all his little friends. God, with David’s luck, he’d end up telling fucking Mick. As if things could get any worse, Elton would probably get all pissy that David preferred Shrek - according to the rumors and his own insecurities, obviously. It totally wasn’t true at all - but in essence, his life was going to be fucking desolated, and it was all Jimmy Page’s fault. He probably hadn’t even seen John Entwistle all day, the twat. But if Shrek was here . . . no, no, don’t get your hopes up. Even if it is true, John probably just saw a-a-a green bird. Or something. Right? Right?! Because if Shrek was back in Hogwarts, he’d have to choose between him and Elton. And he theoretically knew that it shouldn’t be a hard choice, Elton was nice and of a similar size and it was legal for the two of them to hang out. And yet. Fuck. There was just no denying that onionific allure.   
“Look, Jimmy, I don’t really care what John Entwistle saw while he was jerking off in a suit of armor or whatever. I just want to go to bed, I’ve had a long day, especially what with all that nonsense with Mick Jagger-”  
“Wait, what happened with Mick Jagger?”  
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” David was overjoyed. He had gotten to Jimmy first, ensuring that the whole school would see the conflict in the right way: how much of a fucking dick Mick Jagger was. Maybe this stupid bullshit meeting or whatever wasn’t for naught after all. 

Elton could physically feel the blood pumping in his veins. That should be alarming, but if he started acknowledging red flags now he’d never stop. The air in the daft, abandoned hallway behind the clocktower was musty and stale; it probably hadn’t been properly ventilated in decades at the very least. It hadn’t been heated in a while either; it felt like the walls were sucking the warmth from him. He thought it was pretty rude of the ogre to show up a full fifteen minutes late. Was it a strategy? It probably established dominance of some sort, forcing him to stand around like some kind of sweaty virgin (half true). Maybe that was it, to make his hands all sweaty and gross so his fist would slide off of Shrek’s face, which was already considerably moist. He tried to get himself amped up, but that just wasn’t going to work. Elton just ended up getting mad at himself for being alone in a dark hallway on a Saturday night. 

David paced around the dorms. Something suspicious was going on. Jimmy Page starts chatting him up, and then Elton spends the next evening and following two days being dodgy and weird, and now he disappears Saturday night, steadfastly refusing to provide any explanation as to where he was going or what he was doing. David started rummaging through his book bag, which he’d left behind, absentmindedly eliminating possible alibis. He left the condoms, so he wasn’t having an affair. He wasn’t studying, having left all his books and also he never studied. But then it struck him- what if he’d only brought one condom? What if whomever he was sleeping with had their own?   
Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. Shrek would never do this to me. There had never been a shadow of a doubt in his mind as to Shrek’s whereabouts. David hadn’t to spend a second worried that there was someone else. And Shrek might be back. Or he might not. Regardless, he had to find Elton, and if he wasn’t somewhere that David could live with, it was over. God, how could he do this to me? I stole his yogurt and everything!

The hairs on the back of Elton’s neck stood up. He saw a 7 foot tall lump of pure, unadulterated Scottish charisma and knew that the time had come. He was as ready as he’d ever be for a fight, but that wasn’t what happened. As Elton raised his fists, Shrek growled, “Three! Two! One! Let it rip!” Wait what the fuc-  
Unless his eyes were failing him, which was actually not unlikely as he’d left his glasses behind so they wouldn’t be destroyed, Elton could’ve sworn there was a small top spinning in the darkness. As he saw the torchlight glinting off of its exquisitely crafted metal features, he confirmed that theory. “C’mon lad, you should’ve launched ages ago!”  
“What the actual hell is going on?”  
“Do ye seriously mean to tell me you haven’t got a Beyblade?”  
“Wait, like, as in that stupid elective your wife teaches?” Poor choice of words.   
“What, did you think I was gonna fight ye? That wouldn’t be fair at all. I’d win in twelve fuckin seconds!”  
“Put up or shut up you Jolly Green Twat!” Elton kicked the Bey to the side and launched himself at his opponent. 

As David made lengthy strides down the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, he wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted. This was because he hadn’t yet noticed the tangential story structure he inhabited. So, since the story needed to be padded out a bit, David ran into a visibly agitated Pete Townshend, surrounded by his weird delinquent friends and Robert Plant. David fought with every ounce of willpower in his entire body not to get distracted, but in the end, he was just a messy bitch who loved drama.  
“What’s all this then?” His hands were on his hips as he looked expectantly at the five confused adolescents in front of him.   
“It’s none of your business, innit?” Roger’s tone was defensive, but Pete Townshend just sighed and said that they might as well tell him everything. Roger Daltrey looked to be trying to come up with a tactful way to explain the situation, John Entwistle didn’t even pretend he was going to speak, and Robert Plant wouldn’t make eye contact. Luckily, Keith Moon was there to just blurt out, “Robert didn’t recognize us in the dark and he said that Pete was born with both sex organs and raised as a girl.”   
“Where’s the lie?” Robert whispered, still looking directly at the floor. Roger rolled his eyes,  
“Nonetheless-”  
“Wow, look guys, Rog learned a big word.” Pete let go of Roger and John’s hands in order to cross his arms angstily.   
“This is why no one likes you Pete!”  
“Robert, haven’t you done enough?”  
“I’m trying to help you!”   
“What I want to know,” David interrupted the blonde argument, “is why you’d be talking shit about Pete Townshend? Rogerinagate is still in full effect, and you’ve got an excellent case against Mick Jagger, so why this? Why not wait?”   
“God, David, do you think we plan this shit?”  
“I mean, yeah?”  
“That’s not- no- David, why- what do you think we do all day? Sit around strategizing?” David realized that he hadn’t really put that much thought into the matter. He tried to stutter out a response, but Robert kept going. “Literally every day Jimmy and I sit around in class getting bored- I mean he’s just really good at magic and shit and god knows I don’t care- and we just come up with amusing lies and weird conspiracy theories about-”  
“And then you go around telling that shit to people?” David jumped at John’s exclamation. Come to think of it, this was the first time he’d ever heard John Entwistle speak in anything other than his standard monotone, much less palpable outrage.   
“It’s just a joke!”  
“Robert you cannot be serious; you know how much people believe you.”  
“Wow, Roger knows how to use a semicolon.”  
“Shut up Pete.”  
“God, guys, no one actually believes me! Or Jimmy. Well, I guess sometimes they do. . . but . . .” David could literally hear the guilt creeping into Robert’s voice as he spoke. “But you know, it was kinda fun. And, like, half of it was basically true.” Pete was not happy, and David noticed a slight move by Roger to restrain him. Speaking of Jimmy. “Look, you guys beat kids up with your fists, so why can’t I do the same thing socially?”  
“Social harm is longer lasting and, often, far more detrimental overall.”  
“Get off my dick Keith!” As the conversation turned more explicitly hostile, David remembered that he had an objective for tonight other than to oversee. . . whatever this was. As he slowly walked away, looking back at the developing situation while trying to concentrate on the task at hand. He resolved to ask about it later and gave it 50/50 odds of turning into a brawl or an orgy. 

Elton wasn’t doing well, but he could’ve done far worse. He thought John would probably be proud. The ogre’s eyes had a surprisingly satisfying texture, supple and moist, enveloping his short sausage fingers as they plunged into the gargantuan sockets. As Shrek stumbled around blindly, Elton thought that it was his time to strike, to take the opportunity presenting itself. Unfortunately, Shrek retained enough spacial awareness to make aim a weighted swipe of his fist right at where Elton was standing.   
He struggled to stand. The impractical shoes he had chosen turned that into a Herculean struggle. Kicking them off, he staggered to his feet just as Shrek started to get his bearings and aimed a punch right at his windpipe.   
Another one of the unintended practical side-effects of Elton’s ostentatious wardrobe was the multiple tawdry rings he wore functioning as makeshift brass knuckles. Fun fact: google won’t tell me what color ogre blood is. But whatever color it was, it trickled down from the small nick Elton had caused and there was a pause. 

It took about a split second for Shrek to realize what happened. He saw the student step back and felt a stinging sensation coming from his neck. This was a humiliation! He had stood undefeated in several decades of petty arguments escalated into duels, and now his life blood had been spilt by a sniveling teenager who already looked like a 40-something pervert middle manager! Shrek was a grown ogre with innumerable accolades, and he had just been bested by some punk?!   
That was the last straw. The donkey’s back was broken now. The pH of the room went down and the stale air of the abandoned hallway stirred for the first time in decades as Shrek let out a tremendous roar. He lunged at Elton, and at that point all pretense of this being a fair fight vanished like tears in a communal shower.   
The ogre took full advantage of his superior size and strength. It didn’t hurt that Elton was woefully out of shape for a seventh-year and Shrek was nearly two and a half feet taller. The student had been bowled over, but he elected not to even try to stand, instead swiping as Shrek’s legs, which didn’t work because they were as thick as tree trunks.   
Shrek was able to gain a small measure of schadenfreude from watching Elton’s eyes as it dawned on him that he was going to lose. All the plucky underdog enthusiasm of ten minutes ago was melting away as reality hit him like an enormous sack of bricks. Green bricks. That smelled like onions. And had fucked David Bowie.   
Shrekling lowly to himself, Shrek debated ending the fight as soon as possible, humiliating the lad with the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to hold his own for more than fifteen minutes. But then he saw Elton’s eyes again through his shitty sunglasses that he got for $45 on Etsy*^, and the tangible hatred which lay therein. This schlubby teenager thought he, the mighty and honorable Shrek, was the villain! That was what got him. It was over, all right, but he was going to enjoy it first.

David’s heart pounded as he made quick, long strides through the abandoned corridors. For all the distance he’d traversed, it sure seemed like he wasn’t getting anywhere. When he finally reached his destination, he went to pound on the door, but a sudden hint of hesitation struck him. Did he really want that door to open? This was the supply closet, the legendary crevasse of the school where you could sell your soul for an A-. Who was he to come barging in, like his interference made even the slightest difference? It obviously didn’t. If Elton was in there, it wasn’t like humiliating him would change his ways. He probably wasn’t, anyways, a new term was barely halfway through and Elton was one of the most prolific procrastinators David had ever met. And if he was in there . . . was that something he really wanted to see? Wouldn’t it be better to vaguely conceptualize that it had happened, without having to confront exactly what was happening?   
But then he realized that he had to know. If he left now, he’d spend the rest of his life speculating, eternally unsatisfied with his variant theories, unable to accept any of them as true. David squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and tried to look resolute and intimidating as he raised his bony fist and thrice knocked it against the door.   
Predictably, John Reid opened the door, predictably irritated, and predictably he was accompanied. Nothing else about the situation was foreseeable, however. First off, they were both fully clothed, and not in the least bit unkempt. Secondly, Freddie actually had his fucking homework out, and appeared to have been doing it. What the fuck kind of bizarro upside down world was this, Canada?   
“The hell is going on in here?” David didn’t know why he was so perturbed, if anything he should be glad that Elton wasn’t in there. But honestly, how were you supposed to navigate the complexity and horror of a British magic school if you couldn’t even count on the slutty Scottish kid?   
“Well,” John started to explain, interrupting David’s intense stare at the wall as he internally monologued, “Professor Foucault isn’t available, so I was helping him out with his homework.”   
“Why?”  
“I don’t want my parents to murder me?”  
“Yeah, but, like” David felt insane, explaining this super obvious thing to them, “isn’t that- aren’t you supposed to blow him or something?” John looked halfway offended, which was rich coming from “the human motel room”, to quote a particularly livid Simon Ferocious.   
“Freddie is my friend! I would never-”  
“I have standards!”  
“Rude. Also, no you don’t.”  
“Come again?”  
“Please don’t.” David mumbled, but no one heard him.  
“Paul.” Freddie paused.   
“Ok, you have a point . . . wait didn’t you sleep with him too?”  
“Have either of you seen Elton?” They ignored him until he snapped right next to John’s ear, ceasing the argument.   
“Oh, uh, not recently, come to think of it.” Wonderful. Everyone around him was useless.   
“He’s dueling someone. I helped him at it a few days ago.” Freddie gasped.  
“Elton? In a fight? Is he suicidal or something should I get a counselor?”   
“He wouldn’t tell me why he did it.” And that’s when it clicked. In that moment, as a Scottish tart prattled on about ‘technique’ or something, all the pieces fell together in David’s head. Elton’s odd behavior had begun around the same time that Shrek was allegedly sighted. Why would Shrek come back to the castle? He couldn’t teach, and his wife could get him whatever he’d left behind- it had to be personal. And it had to be about something that Fiona couldn’t find out about.   
That means it’s about me! And if he wanted me back. . . then he’d have to defeat Elton! Of course! Why else would Elton ever fight someone?! He’s off dueling Professor Shrek! 

Elton could feel his stomach sinking as the ogre loomed above him. There was something uniquely terrifying about a doom that you were capable of foreseeing, but powerless to prevent. But then, as Shrek moved his gargantuan boot to rest atop Elton’s bedazzled hand (the one which had drawn his blood), a small part of his psyche pivoted from fear to something else entirely. God, Elton thought, I fuckin hate being a teenage boy. First the “doughnut hole” misadventure, and now this?   
He tried to ignore this bizarre response, but Shrek was just giving a long, boring lecture about god knows what. What did I expect from a professor? But even with his conscious mockery, some subconscious freudian part of his mind decided that this would be an ideal time to get all hot and bothered. Wonderful.   
What the fuck? Elton could not for the life of him figure out why he was having this response. Shrek wasn’t exactly attractive, and his overpowering odor was enough to make Elton gag. Plus, he wasn’t even doing anything provocative. He was just being mean, and degrading, and dominant, and sadistic. Kind of like David. Totally like John. Fuck.  
Instead of addressing that revelation, Elton looked up, having suddenly noticed that Shrek wasn’t talking anymore.   
“Lad, are you . . . ?”  
“Aroused? Well, not psychologically, but physiologically I do appear to be, yes.”   
“The fuq is wrong with ye?”  
“You know, I’ve been wondering that for quite some time.” He expected Shrek to insult him and continue with the pummeling, but that isn’t what happened. The ogre paused, and for the first time since either of them could remember, openly displayed an emotion other than wrath, lust, or triumph. It was pity.   
There was a quiet moment.   
Fun fact: pickled onions are fucking delicious. Those small ones that are pickled whole? Fuckin incredible. This is only half meant as a sex metaphor, I need to spread the word. They’re almost as tasty as apples covered in tin foil and microwaved. Where was I?  
Yeah so pickled onions are out of this world, actually. So are unpickled grapes. They’re firm and springy, and underneath their skin they have a totally different color, texture, and flavor, which is pretty cool.   
However, while I’ve never tried it, pickled onions and grapes are maybe not super awesome as a combination? Idk just something to think about. 

David Bowie was a man on a mission. He was heading to the secluded area behind the clock tower - Shrek’s favorite part of the school, he had told him, because it was obscured from view but also quite scenic, and close to the onion patches at that - as he presumed that’s where this duel was taking place. He didn’t intend to stop it, if it hadn’t ended yet. The choice was near impossible, and it seemed better to let them sort it out. However, ever since that thing with Mick, David had been eager to see another fight.  
Suddenly, he was approached by Davy Jones! “Hey, David! Do you want to help me with my subplot?!”  
“No.” He wouldn’t let himself be distracted again.  
“Aw, c’mon. It’s super wacky!”  
“I don’t care.”  
“You see, me and Eric-” Davy stumbled back as Bowie placed a hand on his forehead and shoved as hard as he could, somehow intuitively knowing that nothing on earth was currently more important than witnessing that fight.   
What David actually saw was not a fight. It was . . . something else. David was no stranger to catching students ensconced in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, but this was different. This was personal. The betrayal burned like a white hot poker jabbing into the innermost core of his heart. As the ungodly sounds of the ungodly union echoed off of the stone walls, he fought back tears and the urge to run away. He’d decided in front of that storage closet door that he wanted the truth, and now he was going to have to confront it, ugly and mangled and misshapen as it may be.   
David was aghast. He didn’t entirely expect this of Elton, but especially not from Professor Shrek. Did all those twenty-minute sessions under the floorboards and in the attic mean nothing? Did he? And not only were they cheating on him, but with the only other senpai that he had? This went beyond infidelity; this was cruelty.   
David cleared his throat, interrupting the hideous liaison taking place. As the ogre and the mediocre student looked up and realized he was there, their faces transformed before his eyes. Elton’s displayed immense guilt, as well as some degree of confusion. Shrek looked like he’d just realized what he was doing, and was disgusted. No one tried to speak; they all knew what was going on. The only question was what would happen next.   
Ok so a salad with grapes and pickled onion would be sorta gross, but you can’t even imagine one with grapes, pickled onions, and English cucumber. That would be mad.  
As they drew close to a finish, Davis started to panic again. What did this mean? Where would they go from here? There was going to have to be a great reckoning, but none of them were any good at communicating, especially with emotional manners. Also, what if they got caught?   
But, before they could even catch their breath, the intercoms were informing David, Shrek, and Elton that the school year was ending next week due to the school having been declared a class A biohazard. It all started two hours ago, when John Reid had passed out in the middle of talking to the defense against the dark arts teacher. The school nurse, upon trying to diagnose the lad, had gone completely stark raving mad, and her entire head of hair had turned white. The local hospital had deemed it a new disease, which they called “chlamydia cubed,” but even they were stupefied. John was now in CIA custody, and it would soon be determined that he’d gotten several strands of chlamydia, which had horrifically crossbred with an STD which was completely unknown to man. He’d caught it from Roger Taylor, who got it from that damned car. Wizards weren’t even supposed to have cars. At any rate, John’s confounding medical mystery somehow inexplicably morphed into superpowers, which you can find out about in Marvel’s Eternals, coming soon to a theatre near you.   
And this lead to mass testing, which determined the entire student body had HPV, excepting Brian May and John Deacon. It turned out there were two sources of infection. The first having been carried off in a medical helicopter, all that remained to do was clean out the pools. Someone had fucked a few of the pool boys, one thing lead to another, and now the whole school had HPV, even if they’d never even gotten to first base.  
You’re probably wondering what became of our heroes. Well, sad to say, in the rush to flee the infested campus, Headmaster Thatcher noticed Shrek had returned to the school, and she got law enforcement involved. Shrek was arrested, put on the national sex offenders registry, and spent the rest of his life in a much smaller swamp, the only one he could find that was legally far away enough from any schools. He developed a popular YouTube channel based around onionology, although most of his audience are merely thirsty. Elton and David were put in witness protection and renamed Reggie Dwight and Ziggy Stardust, respectively. Ziggy has not been seen for 13 years, if you have any information as to his whereabouts, please notify the proper authorities. Reg, meanwhile, works at a high-end shoe store that caters to the .001 percent. He is woefully unqualified, being consistently judgemental and bitchy to any customers unfortunate enough to cross his path. He hasn’t been fired, however, because he came into possession of some extremely compromising photographs of his manager.  
-Bri

*it turns out David Bowie did not, in fact, have heterochromia, one pupil was permanently dilated. The authors of this literature in no way condone the spread of misinformation, but would defend their use of this myth as ignorance on the part of the point of view character.   
** The authors do in fact vaguely remember that Hogwarts had a different grading system, but are incapable of recalling exactly how it went, and have deemed it unworthy of a google. If this lack of effort disturbs you, keep in mind that this universe’s Hogwarts is run by Margaret Thatcher and populated by people who had reached adulthood before JK Rowling was even born, so maybe don’t fret too hard about factual inaccuracies.   
^Donkey had the education required to be a professor of potions, but he also had a doctorate degree in philosophy, so no one wanted to argue with him about what constituted a “good cause,” they just sort of let him do whatever.   
***It’s true and you will never prove me wrong  
^^If I make a guess no one’s going to agree with me and Hogwarts houses are arbitrary anyway and also fuck you I am the author you are the audience I outrank you  
*^https://www.etsy.com/listing/467351478/fuck-you-censored-embellished-sunglasses


End file.
